The Changing Lights of the Rainbow
Chapter 1
The days blurred into each other. The old motel rooms all seemed the same. They had the same dim lighting, the same awful, musky smell. They always had two beds, separated by a small table with an alarm clock and phone sitting on it. Above the table was a lamp that hung from the wall. Beside the bed closest to the door was always a small table with two chairs. Across from the beds sat a long dresser with a tv on top it.
Sitting on the tv was a laminated card with the tv line up and the listing for pay per view channels. Sometimes, when John was around, he would take advantage of his credit card schemes and order a pay per view channel. Usually, it was when he thought the boys were long asleep, sometimes, Dean would be awake, or woken by the sounds, but he never thought anything of it. To him, everything was normal. When you live in such cramped conditions, with no room for personal space, it was normal. He wasn't exactly old enough to understand or care about what his dad was doing, or what the people on the tv were acting out.
Beside the tv listing was usually a stack of pamphlets, things to do in the area, things that might interest normal people, but the Winchesters were far from normal. In fact, some of the times, the places in the pamphlets were the reason they were in town, not for sightseeing, but for hunting.
Beside the pamphlets, there always sat a Bible. Dean figured it was for the people who would get scared after visiting the local haunted house, or taking the ghost tours, they offered. If they were lucky, they would be able to pick up four or five of the channels on the list, the others were just a bunch of blur and static.
Dean used the tv to educate himself. He watched daytime tv to learn how to take care of his growing brother. The daily soap shows would teach him what his brother needed for basic care, and how to handle him when he was crying or needing something. He would watch the talk shows to find out what was the healthiest options for him, and what was dangerous for little kids. He learned that babies needed to stay away from small items, they caused a choking hazard, and that they shouldn't be around knives or guns. Dean made a mental note to make sure Sammy didn't get his knife or in Dad's weapons bag.
He also watched cartoons. Sammy liked them too. But, Dean watched them so he could learn things. Things he should have learned in school. He learned how to put letters together to make words, and how to sound them out. TV taught him how to read and count, and his colors and shapes. He even helped Sammy learn them as he grew.
Dad would leave them alone most of the time. He was too busy trying to hunt the monsters, or getting information from other hunters he would meet up with. He had become consumed by the hunt. The need for revenge on the demon that killed his wife had filled every empty spot her death had left. He was an empty shell, filled with determination, there was no room for things like emotions, or feelings.
He would leave the boys with enough food for the length of time he'd be gone. But, Sammy was a growing baby, and always seemed to want more. Dean had learned, at the very beginning of this new adventure, to store food away, not to eat unless he absolutely needed to. He was glad he was smart enough to figure that out, because it came in handy when Sammy wanted more food but everything Dad left was gone. Dean hadn't figured out how to stretch the food out and make it last, yet. But, he was only five years old, almost six.
Sammy's first birthday was coming up soon. It was cold outside, and the boys had found themselves in another cheap motel that reminded him of all the others they had stayed at. Dad said he would only be gone a day, two at most. Two days had passed, and the food he left for them was long gone. Dean had been feeding Sammy from the food he stored away. It had been almost six months since his family was broken. And, he still didn't feel like talking to anyone. He had said a few words, mostly to Sammy, and Bobby when they were there, but not really to anyone else.
He sat by the window, his brother asleep on the bed. The snow had begun to fall outside. The sun was going down, and the moon had just started showing itself. It was the third night their dad was gone. It would have been okay, he had been gone longer, but he said he would be back before then. If he was going to be late, he always called and checked up on them, this time he didn't.
As Dean sat and watched the snow fall, he couldn't help but feel the nagging feeling in the back of his mind, telling him that something was wrong. He had finally made up his mind. He dug through his bag, finding the paper Bobby had given him with his number on it, in case he needed someone to talk to.
After 3 rings the phone was answered.
"Hello?"
"Bbb… Bobby?"
"Yeah? Who is this?"
"Iii… It'sss…. Dddean"
"Dean? Boy, everything okay? It's been awhile since I've heard from you."
"Nnno sir, I don't know where Daddy is"
There was a pause, as Bobby registered what the boy was saying. It was never a good thing when a hunter went missing, especially if they had left small children behind.
"Okay, boy, tell me where you are"
"I don't know"
"Do you see anything with a town name on it? Maybe a pamphlet or something?"
"Yes sir"
"Okay, I want you to go get it"
Dean sat the phone down as he gathered the items from the top of the tv
"Do you know how to read?"
"A little, what I learned on tv"
"Okay, do you know your letters?"
"Yes sir"
"Tell me what letters you see, spell it out for me"
"I..N..D..I..A..N..A that's one word, G..H..O..S..T.. that's another word, I think that word is 'ghost',"
"Yeah, you're right, boy"
Dean smiled, proud of himself for knowing that, "T..O..U..R..S, is the next word. M..I..S..H..A..W..A..K..A is the last word. This is where Daddy said he was going."
"Okay, that was good, Look you're a few hours from me, are you and your brother okay right now?"
"Yes, sir, but…"
"But, what?"
"There isn't anything left to eat, I've made sure Sammy ate, but there's nothing left now"
"Have you eaten?"
"No sir, not since the cookie I ate when I woke up this morning"
"Okay, boy, you just hang in there, okay? I'll be on my way, and if your daddy shows up, you tell him to stay put."
After making sure he had the motel name and room number, he told Dean the same thing his dad had told him. Don't open the door for anyone except him or his dad. He told him he'd use the special knock that they came up with over the phone. He promised him he'd be there as fast as he could, and that everything would be alright.
Dean hung up the phone, feeling a little better, but still feeling like something was wrong. His dad had told him that the first thing to know about hunting, was to follow your gut feeling, it was never wrong. Dean walked to the window, closed the curtains tight, made sure the door was locked and all the salt lines were in place. He curled up on the bed next to his sleeping brother, he had his knife sitting beside him.
Something was scaring him, he didn't know what it was, but it felt really bad. He just hoped Bobby hurried up, he didn't like the feeling that was overwhelming him. It wasn't the fact they were alone, he had gotten used to that, and it didn't scare him as long as he had Sammy, this feeling was something completely different.
He wouldn't be able to sleep, he sat on the bed, between his brother and the door. He got up a few times, to make sure the curtain was closed completely, that there weren't any gaps that anyone could see through. Then, he'd return to his brother's side, only to repeat the actions again, checking out the peek hole in the door, to make sure everything was okay. He'd pulled a chair to the door so he could stand on it and look out. He had everything in place so he could keep an eye on his surroundings, he was protected with the only weapon he had, the knife Bobby had given him.
He sat on the bed, with his back against the wall, his knees pulled to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around them. He hoped his brother would stay asleep all night, as much as he would love his company right now, he also had a feeling that he just needed to stay asleep, to stay quiet. Dean's little hands trembled with the fear that was threatening to overtake him. He sniffled away a tear that traced down his little cheek.
He had found himself not wanting his dad, not hoping he would come home. But, instead he was longing for Bobby. He was wishing he had called him sooner so they could already be with him, safe. He would keep them safe, he knew it. Bobby was the first person; the only person Dean had ever trusted completely. And right now, with this feeling that was building inside him, he needed someone he could trust to keep them safe. And, something was telling him, his dad wasn't that person, not right now.
Dean kept an eye on the door, like he was expecting it to open and someone to walk in, which was crazy, because even though his dad had a room key, he had locked the chain and deadbolt too, so even if he unlocked the door, he still couldn't get in. But, Dean couldn't keep his eyes off the door. The only time he drew his eyes away was when he, shakenly, got off the bed to recheck the curtains and salt lines, and look through the peek hole, quickly returning to his spot on the bed.
The seconds ticked by like years. Time seemed to slow down, and stand still. The fear that had filled such a small body was threatening to make him nauseous, he fought back the need to vomit, he couldn't leave his brother, not for something as silly as that. Besides, he didn't have anything in his stomach anyhow, so it was just a feeling, there wasn't anything to come up even if he tried.
He had long forgotten about the hunger that was overwhelming him just hours ago. It had been replaced with this unfamiliar, uneasy feeling. He didn't like the feeling, wished it would go away, but knew it wouldn't not until Bobby got there.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Dean froze, he waited, another simple knock followed a minute later. It wasn't the knock Bobby said he would use. He snuck off the bed, knife in hand, and quietly crawled on the chair to look out the hole in the door. There, in front of him, stood his dad, or what looked like his dad.
His insides were screaming at him, something told him this wasn't Dad. Dean made his way back to the bed. If this was Dad why wasn't he using his key? Even if the other locks were secured, he would have at least tried to use his key, especially since he would have thought the boys were both asleep at this time of the night.
Another knock, "Dean, oh Dean, it's Daddy, open the door"
Dean froze again, something didn't sound right, first he wouldn't have called himself Daddy. Even when he drank with the adults and smelled funny and couldn't walk straight, he didn't call himself 'Daddy'. And, they also had a secret knock, so after trying the key, and failing, he would have used the secret knock, but he didn't do either.
"Dean! You're going to piss me off! Open this damn door now!" His voice was getting louder. "I know you're in there, you and that little brother of yours, so open the damn door!"
The loud noises woke Sammy, and Dean covered his mouth before he could cry or make a sound.
"Shhh, shhhh, Sammy, you have to be quiet" Dean whispered as he picked his brother up with his spare hand and positioned themselves between the bed and the wall. He had them curled in the corner, surrounded by the pillows off the bed and covered with the blankets. Dean had his brother in his lap, still covering his mouth. His knife laid beside him.
"Sammy, I know you won't understand, but something is wrong, okay? You gotta trust me. We can't open the door, okay? I need you to be very, very quiet and go back to sleep. Bobby's on his way, and he's going to take us to his house, we just gotta wait till he gets here, it won't be long, just go back to sleep"
Dean was whispering as quietly as he could. He didn't want the man who called himself Daddy to hear him talking. Sam nodded his head, he was still half asleep anyhow, and he cuddled into his brother's arms, pressing his head into his chest as he closed his eyes and fell back asleep.
Dean let out a breath he had been holding. His brother would be quiet, at least for now. He uncovered his mouth, holding the knife in his shaking hand. He held his little brother tightly. The banging on the door only got louder, the shouts for him to open the door was ringing through his head. The overwhelming fear kept the tears from being controlled. He had sat the knife back down, covered his brother's head and held his hand against the ear that wasn't pressed into his chest. The last thing he needed right now was for Sammy to wake up from the noise, and start crying.
